Pay My Respects to Grace and Virtue
by LuckyLadybug
Summary: Bret Maverick recounts the first time he met crime boss Snakes Tolliver.


Maverick

Pay My Respects to Grace and Virtue

By Lucky_Ladybug

Notes: The characters from shows are not mine and the story is! I started this story a long time ago and got stalled. Finally the inspiration came back and I finished it. Snakes Tolliver is a character from _The Wild Wild West_ episode _The Night of the Poisonous Posey_. I previously used him in the _Maverick_ story _Send My Condolences to Good_ , which takes place some time after this one.

Being a traveling gambler, it's not unusual to run across other traveling gamblers—as well as crooks and conmen—several times over.

One of the strangest characters I've ever had the displeasure of meeting up with repeatedly was a little of all three and something else, too.

The first time I ever saw him was a time when, curiously enough, I was also reunited with an old friend.

I was just pulling into a dusty little town called Liberty when I saw it. There, tied up outside the Last Chance Saloon and Gambling Parlor, was a kind of animal you don't generally expect to see in the middle of the great American West. I had seen one once, but that had been a long time ago, and at first I couldn't really imagine this was the same one.

"A camel?" I muttered.

The camel turned and looked at me with its big, sad eyes. Suddenly it made a joyful cry and tried to break free of its rope. And that's when I knew—this _was_ the same one.

"Fatima," I exclaimed, getting down from my horse and going over to the ecstatic camel. "What are you doing here? I left you with a good home and even a desert to go play in when you got bored." She nuzzled me and I patted her with a sigh. She must have escaped and gone to look for me again. But who had found her and brought her to a place like this?

I still didn't feel like it was in my reasonable means to take in a camel, but I had won Fatima in a poker game and she was so devoted to me that I felt I had an obligation to make sure she had a kind place to live. After tying up my horse next to her, I headed inside to find out.

It was still afternoon, so there weren't a lot of patrons in the Last Chance. Most of the ones who were there were busy watching a poker game off to the side. I sidled up to the bar to take a casual look while finding out the news.

"So, what's going on here?" I asked. It seemed the best way to get into a conversation, and anyway, I was honestly interested.

"Snakes is whipping their tails at poker," the townsman offered, barely turning away to glance at me.

"Snakes?" I raised an eyebrow. There was only one person I knew of who bore that moniker. And from everything I'd heard, he wasn't the sort of person any reasonable man would want to cross.

The fellow didn't answer, but when two men ahead of us finally went their separate ways, I had a clear view of the table and of the man who was clearly in charge of the game.

He was young, probably not even out of his twenties, but he did a good job of making himself seem older. He laughed, chomping on a hefty cigar as he raked the game's winnings to his part of the table. He was dressed fancy, as us gamblers like to dress, with a stylish black hat and a purple pin-stripe suit. But the most telling thing about him was the raised scar traveling all along his left cheek. It was shaped like a snake and was, naturally, the means by which he had got his nickname.

I'd heard many tales about how he got that scar. Maybe parts of all of them were true or maybe none of them were true. The favorite version was that someone had accused him of cheating in a poker game and had given him the injury that had made that scar out of revenge. For Snakes' retaliation, he had given his attacker a bullet in the gut. That was one of many ways he dealt with his enemies.

Most people figured he was a cheat, but no one dared call him on it. In addition to the lackeys he usually brought with him, he was rumored to be an expert with explosives. No one was sure if it was true, but a little digging revealed the truth that a disturbing number of people who had gotten on Snakes' bad side had suffered strange explosions on their property soon afterwards. Not just that, but he was well-known up and down the Mississippi River. If there was any crime to be had in that area, it was generally whispered that Snakes was in charge of it—at least if it involved gambling, the numbers racket, smuggling, or jewel theft. From what people heard, he was noticeably against slavery of all kinds, as well as crimes against children. I had no idea if any of that was true, but I wasn't looking to find out.

"Say," I said to the man still standing next to me, "do you know anything about that camel tied up outside?"

"You'll have to ask Snakes about that," was the reply. "One of his men brought it in, I think."

I hadn't expected that. And I hadn't expected the news that Fatima was in the hands of a dangerous bunch like Snakes Tolliver's gang. I didn't really like it. Yes, I would have to ask Snakes about that.

"Well," I said as I approached the table, "it looks like you've been doing well for yourself."

Snakes looked up, that cigar still between his teeth, and gave me a blank look. "Who're you?" His voice was low and gravelly with a touch of old Virginia. I'd heard he was from back there.

"Maverick," I replied. "Bret Maverick. I just rode into town and couldn't help noticing that camel outside. Someone said that one of your boys picked her up?"

"That's right. We're not sure what we're going to do with it. The last thing we need kicking around is a camel." Snakes studied me for a moment. "You interested?"

"Oh, I'd be willing to pay you for her," I said.

Snakes took the cigar out of his mouth and held it between his fingers. "How much?"

"Shall we say a hundred?" I took out the bill and held it in front of his greedy little eyes.

Snakes considered it for a good, long moment. "Let's say maybe," he said. "I've heard of some people named Maverick. They like playing poker."

"That's us," I said grandly.

Snakes nodded. "Then how about playing a round for that camel?"

"I'm up for it," I replied.

"You must want that animal pretty bad, Pal," Snakes said. "And I have to say I'm curious. What would a gambler want with a critter like that?"

The last thing I was ever going to admit, especially to a character like Snakes Tolliver, was that I was just soft-hearted about dear old Fatima. Anyway, she'd got me out of quite a jam when we met before. I owed her a lot for that.

"Let's just say it's not every day I run into a camel out here," I said. "The only place I thought I'd ever see camels in North America was in a zoo."

Snakes shrugged. "It's a big price for your curiosity, unless you're one of those people who like exotic pets." He took out a fresh deck and cut it, shuffling the cards.

"I'm not, especially," I said guardedly. "Just when it comes to that camel out there."

"She's a special case, eh?" Snakes dealt the cards, peering at me all the while.

"You said that," I said. "I didn't."

We played that game for Fatima's freedom for a long time. It didn't take me anywhere as long to deduce that at least some of the stories I'd heard about Snakes Tolliver were true—the man was a cheat.

Well, now I had two reasons for wanting to win—making sure Fatima had a good place to go and showing up another crooked cardsharp.

To beat a crooked gambler, first you have to figure out how he's doing it. Only then can you start figuring out what to do for a counterattack. I figured out Snakes' methods soon enough, and I also figured out why it was so hard to catch him at it. He had several different tricks he was pulling all in the same game: cards up his sleeves and probably in his pant legs, a way to identify each card in the deck, and a lot of skill. Actually, he was good enough without all the cheating that he wouldn't have needed to do any of it. Now, if I could just convince him of that.

Of course, he wasn't about to admit to cheating his way through at all, even when I pointed it out plain as day.

"Snakes," I said mildly, "the stories going around about you really are true."

He looked up at me, completely unimpressed. "Which stories are those?"

"The ones about you being a cheat," I replied. "You took a card out of your sleeve."

To his credit, it didn't rattle him at all. He just sneered at me. "And did anyone else see that?"

Of course, everyone else shook their heads.

"You see that, Mr. Maverick?" he purred. "You're the only one who seems to have seen anything."

"Well, naturally all your boys would side with you," I retorted.

Snakes just shrugged. "If you want, I'll show you what's up my sleeves right now."

"No thanks," I said. "I'm sure right now all you've got up your sleeves are your arms."

We played for a while longer before I tried again. Pappy always said you catch more flies with honey than vinegar, so I decided to go for a honey approach. It didn't hurt that it was true.

"You know, Snakes," I said, "you're a pretty good poker player. You're good enough that you don't even need to cheat."

I was really expecting him to scoff or laugh or say that that's why he wasn't cheating. Instead he just froze right there and gave me an honest-to-goodness startled look. "Yeah?"

"Of course," I nodded. "I've been playing poker all my life. I can spot a skilled player from a cheap cheat any day."

Well, he didn't say anything more to that. But for the rest of the game, he played it straight. Maybe that was the first time I really realized that there was something different about Snakes Tolliver. I had to wonder if anyone had ever told him he played good before. Maybe they just always accused him of cheating outright because they didn't have a good enough eye to tell that he was skilled without it.

In spite of his talent, however, he still couldn't quite match up to a Maverick. I finally won at last, and I breathed a sigh of relief for Fatima's changed fate.

Snakes didn't show any visible signs of being shaken over losing. He just gathered up his cards, stabbed out his cigar, and said, "Well, Mr. Maverick, it looks like the camel now belongs to you. Take her, with my compliments."

I pushed back my chair. "Thank you," I drawled as I got up.

I headed outside and told Fatima the good news. She seemed to understand; she made a happy sound and nuzzled me, nearly knocking my hat off. I gathered up her and my horse and took them both to the livery stable. The man there wasn't exactly jumping for joy at having a camel to board, but I gave him a nice enough incentive that he cheered right up and looked the other way about it.

I thought my troubles were over. I had no idea that even as I signed in at the hotel and headed up to my room, downstairs Snakes was pondering and plotting and wondering what kind of a fortune had slipped out of his fingers. He sent his men out to find out everything they could about a camel roaming the Old West states, figuring, I guess, that any news they turned up would be about Fatima and not some _other_ Americanized camel.

By morning the news was back. I woke up with two of Snakes' thugs pinning my arms down and Snakes himself standing at the footboard, calm and collected and of course, smoking another cigar.

"Good morning, Mr. Maverick," he greeted.

"Is it?" I retorted, struggling against his goons. "Maybe if I could get up and open the curtains, I could tell."

Snakes smirked at me. "I had my boys do a little checking last night. They learned all about that camel you won and your connection with it."

"Oh, come on, Snakes. What kind of a connection could I have with a camel?" I shot back. "They're not much use to us traveling gamblers."

"Maybe that's why you gave it up in the past," Snakes mused. "But it must have some kind of value in spite of that and you didn't want me getting my hands on it because of that. So tell me, Mr. Maverick." He nodded to his lackeys and they pushed my arms deeper into the mattress. "What's so valuable about that camel?"

Naturally I withstood the torture as best as I could. "Nothing," I gasped, hoping he'd believe me and make it stop, as well as to leave poor Fatima alone.

"Nothing? Really?" Snakes leaned forward, placing both hands on the footboard. "I don't believe you, Pal. Maybe you've got a buyer lined up who'll pay big to have an exotic pet like Fatima."

"They'd have to be able to pay big just to afford feeding her," I shot back, clenching my teeth. I was afraid that if they kept pushing, my arms would either break off or the mattress would tear through, not necessarily in that order. I wasn't looking forward to the thought of paying for damages inflicted by Snakes' boys. Naturally _they_ wouldn't be paying.

"So who is it?" Snakes persisted.

"No one," I choked out. "Look, I have to pay people to take her off my hands. She doesn't have any value to anyone!"

"Except you, eh?" Snakes straightened. "So the great Bret Maverick is nothing but a soft-hearted fool. How about that." He turned to head for the door. "Come on, boys. Let's leave him alone now."

They let me go just about the time the mattress started to tear. I fell into it, gasping, wondering if there was any feeling left in my arms so that I could get up and dress for the day. 

Out in the hall, I heard the desk clerk nervously ask, "Is everything alright, Mr. Tolliver?"

I wasn't expecting what I heard next. "Yeah, everything's fine. But there was some damage to one of your beds while the boys were questioning Mr. Maverick. Here, this should cover it."

A very relieved desk clerk replied, "Oh thank you, Sir! Yes, this should be fine."

I lay there for some time thinking about what had just happened. Snakes was a big presence in this town. Maybe he ran it. But instead of leaving messes around for other people to clean up, he paid for what he did. What kind of a crime boss was he?

It didn't take me long to find out. After I'd dressed for the day and went down to breakfast in the dining room, I asked a few people about him. They were only too happy to talk about him. He'd helped Mr. Vaughn open his general store. He paid for repairs to the local bank. He brought in a schoolteacher to teach the kids (and anyone else who wanted to learn). Of course, he said it was all in the name of business; there was no sense running a broken-down town filled with uneducated idiots. But unlike every other place I've been in that's run by a crime boss, these people didn't fear him. They _liked_ him. Probably just because he financed their lives, but still.

Now, you know I don't like to leave crime bosses running loose to operate as they see fit. No doubt Snakes had all kinds of criminal operations running on the side, but nobody did anything about it because they'd lose their meal ticket. I could have just got out of the town of Liberty nice and peaceful and left Snakes to it. But that's just not me.

Of course, I really had my work cut out for me. It's hard enough toppling a crime boss if everybody in town is afraid of him. I had no idea how to deal with everybody in town admiring the guy.

I tried to reason with them. I told them that Snakes was a big-time smuggler and probably hid things in their warehouses. They didn't care, as long as Snakes took care of them. I told them they needed to stand on their own feet and not let a criminal stand them up for them. They said they hadn't even known how to fix up their town until Snakes had come along. Maybe they could stand on their own now, but they didn't want to kick him out. Liberty was Snakes' town more than anybody's. They probably would've elected him mayor if they could have.

I sent some cables to Brother Bart and some friends I knew up and down the Mississippi River. Everything came back positive: Snakes owned many towns all along that route, and in every town, it was exactly the same way. Snakes had figured out a pretty surefire system for himself.

Liberty wasn't actually anywhere near the Mississippi River. It was probably the farthest town West Snakes owned. Apparently he was branching out. That wasn't acceptable either.

Well, if I couldn't count on the people to do what they needed to do, I'd just have to figure out another way to break Snakes' hold over the town.

I decided to get at him through whatever crooked things he was doing with the place. After sending a coded message to Brother Bart asking him to send a federal marshal to this little town, I set about putting my plan into action.

It wasn't easy, let me tell you. Breaking into warehouses, finding smuggled goods underneath legitimate shipments, looking for the books that would tell all about the money brought in because of the town. . . . And of course, none of that stuff would lead directly back to Snakes. The best I could hope for was that all the dummy corporations and other stuff he'd set up as a barrier between the law and him would fall apart and he'd have to leave town and start over. He sure had plenty of other towns to do it in.

Digging up the dirt was made even more complicated by the fact that Snakes always seemed to be underfoot. It was like he knew where I was all the time. Actually, since everyone in town probably doubled as his spies, he probably did. I had to do most of my work late at night when all respectable people were sleeping.

I had several conversations with Snakes during those dark and dangerous days. They always started out the same way, with Snakes being calm and cool and obnoxious, and they always ended up with him saying or doing something that showed there was another side to him deep down. He confused me like nobody's business.

The day the federal marshal finally arrived, I wasn't expected to come back from a night in the saloon to find Snakes leaning against my door when I shut it. He was alone, but the darkness and anger in his eyes made up for it.

"What are you trying to do to me, Mr. Maverick?" he demanded low.

"Do? What do you think I'm trying to do to you?" I replied.

"Somebody's been making an awful lot of trouble for me the last several days," Snakes said. "The law is snoopin' around. They've found a lot of my goods and know about my dummy corporations. I'm going to have to get out before anything traces back to me. Nobody in town hates me enough to do this to me. It has to be you."

"I just don't like seeing crime bosses rule over anything," I told him.

"And is what I'm doing so terrible?" Snakes retorted. "I've given these people new life, new purpose. All they have to do is support me."

"That sounds a lot like a deal with the devil," I remarked.

Snakes' eyes burned. He didn't like that comparison. "You're just a dusty old gambler. Where do you get off being so high and mighty?"

"People should be free to take care of themselves and not rely on anyone else to do it for them." I crossed to the bed and started to take off my coat. "Whatever you might think of us Mavericks, we always wipe our own noses."

Snakes sneered. "Well, bully for you." He advanced on me, pulling a gun out from under his coat. "Put your coat back on. I have to get out of town; you're getting out too."

I wasn't about to argue. Pappy always said that no one should ever argue a point when they're on the wrong end of a gun. I put my coat back on, packed my bag, and let Snakes prod me out the door and downstairs.

The desk clerk looked over in surprise. "You're leaving, Mr. Maverick?"

"Yeah." I dropped the key on the counter. The clerk couldn't see the gun, but I wasn't willing to bet Snakes had put it away.

"I hope you'll be back again soon," the clerk said.

"Well, we'll have to see," I told him. "I get around."

I wasn't really surprised when we went out a side door instead of the front. And I wasn't too astonished to see several of Snakes' men lined up and waiting.

"Oh, so I get my own personal firing squad?" I commented. "It's going to be awfully loud."

Snakes looked smug, the little weasel. "You're a gambler, a drifter, an undesirable sort. You'll be escorted out of town. Try to fight back and well, somebody just may have to shut you up but good."

I wasn't about to argue with that, either. "Can I get my animals, at least?" I asked.

"Go ahead." Snakes gestured towards the livery stable. "We've got no use for your camel, anyway. I'm confiscating your horse and taking it with me when I leave."

I nodded. "I should have expected that."

I got Fatima out of the stable and Snakes got my horse. Then we headed outside the town limits, out into the wilderness. I could see about half a dozen rifles trained on me and didn't want to know how many giant bullets they could put through me if I got the least bit out of line.

I knew Snakes was understandably mad at me, but I hadn't realized his men hated me even more than he did. I kind of expected someone might fire on me just out of spite as I was "escaping capture," so when a bullet sailed past my ear, I was sure it was Snakes' doing—or that he'd told his men to do it.

Instead, he exclaimed, "What are you doing? You're supposed to fire around him as he rides off on that thing, not _at_ him before he even gets away!"

His thug swore at him. "We had a good set-up in this town. We're not getting out without taking him out too!"

Several more bullets peppered the ground near me. There wasn't time to leap on Fatima, but there wasn't any place to run or hide, either. But Fatima thought otherwise; she stepped out in front of me, bawling away.

"Fatima, what are you doing?!" I exclaimed. "You're gonna get yourself killed!"

As I feared, the men didn't care. They just prepared to shoot her down to get to me.

And to my surprise, Snakes was furious. "You take orders from me," he snarled. "Now the camel's got in the way. Quit shooting!"

All guns abruptly turned away from me and pointed at Snakes. "We thought you had some backbone," the lead thug growled. "If you're afraid of getting rid of him after everything he's done to us, you can just die with him and his camel."

Fatima bent down and I climbed on while everyone was still occupied. Snakes, trembling from fright as well as anger, took a step back and grabbed my horse. As he leaped on, his men opened fire on him.

I don't know how we managed to not get hit, with lead flying all around us like that. But we both rode like the dickens and Fatima and my horse came through. We made it into the mountains and the trees where our enemies couldn't get at us so easy.

"Well," I gasped as my animals finally stopped, "that was a close one. But what happened there, Snakes? I thought you wanted to kill me."

"Punishment is a lot more lasting when it doesn't involve death," Snakes replied darkly. "I wanted to psych you out. I don't like you, Mr. Maverick, and I won't forgive you for dismantling my town."

"You've got plenty of others," I pointed out. "But if you really figured you were doling out a worse punishment by letting _me_ live, why didn't you let them shoot Fatima instead of me?"

Snakes gave me an even colder look, if that was possible. "I'm not a barbarian. I don't go around shooting down innocent things that don't hurt anybody while they're trying to survive."

"Snakes, you really are an enigma," I proclaimed.

"And I'm taking your horse," Snakes said flatly. "Payment for your disrupting my town."

I heard yelling and glanced back down the mountain. Seemed that the federal marshal and his men had caught up to Snakes' former thugs.

"They're going to tell all about you," I pointed out.

"My word against theirs," Snakes growled. "The whole town will still be on my side. Of course I'm not coming back here, but I know I've got allies if I do. Anyway, Mr. Maverick, they're probably going to tell all about you, too. Only what they say about you will be lies."

I cringed. "And you're probably the only one who could clear me."

Snakes gave me a dark smirk. "Then what do you want to do, Pal?"

I drew a shaking breath. "You know, I think we're at an impasse. I'd have to lie about you to clear you. But I'm sure you wouldn't lift a finger to clear me if I didn't."

Snakes looked entertained by this new problem. "So, you have to temporarily abandon your high-handed morality or else you get chased who knows how far. What'll it be?"

I clenched my teeth. This was not a good position I'd gotten myself into! But I didn't want it to all be in vain.

"My brother Bart can clear me too," I decided at last. "I told him to get the federal marshal."

"Yeah, but did you tell him all the details?" Snakes retorted.

"I couldn't," I protested. "Your people could've deciphered our code if I said too much."

Snakes threw back his head and laughed. "So there's not much he could do. But you'd better decide quickly. It looks like somebody's riding out this way. Probably the law."

". . . I'll stay and take my chances," I said at last. "I've got a better chance than you, even with the lies your people will tell. You'd better get going if you want a head-start."

That sobered Snakes up pretty quick. "You're not keeping me here as your prisoner?" he asked suspiciously.

"One good turn deserves another," I told him. "I won't lie and make you look squeaky clean, but you did save my and Fatima's lives. If you get going now, maybe you won't get caught."

Snakes considered that for all of a moment. "Okay. See you around, Mr. Maverick." He paused. "And good luck." With that, he rode off into the dark and I held still, praying this wasn't going to be my doom.

"Ho! Who's there?" a voice called after a moment. "Are you Bret Maverick?"

"That's right," I said slowly.

Fatima gave her greetings.

"What the . . ." The federal marshal just sat and stared. "Is that a _camel?_ "

"Well, it's not a horse," I said with an awkward grin.

The marshal shook his head. "I can hardly wait to hear the explanation for _this._ "

Things ended up working out okay in the end. The marshal was a fair man who weighed all the evidence on both sides and decided to believe me over Snakes' men.

Snakes wasn't ever caught. He couldn't go back to that state, but he had towns in plenty of others. Me and the other members of my family have run into him on other occasions.

I still don't know what to make of him. He's a dangerous character, bitter and angry and in some ways, sure he's right. Or maybe that's just what he tries to convince himself of. It's at least partially a façade; he's an awkward kid deep down. He won't let you see it if he can help it, but sometimes he can't, like when he broke character when I pointed out he was good at poker.

Another thing that stays the same is that whenever we do run into him, somewhere along the way he shows that he's not all bad. His time will probably run out someday, but some part of me hopes that won't be soon. I know it'll probably never happen, but I wish I could see him get straightened out.

As for Fatima, well, I got her set up in another nice place far away from Liberty. Hopefully this time she'll stay put. As much as I hated to leave her, it just doesn't work for a traveling gambler to go around with a camel instead of a horse.

But that doesn't mean I won't think of her fondly. She's saved my life twice now; I owe her all the good things a camel could want in life. Including a visit every time I'm passing through.


End file.
